Dangerous Curves

Chapter 1-2

Charleston nodded.

'How've you played it, Slim?' he asked.

'We've been hangin' around all the usual joints,' said Callaghan. 'I reckon we've been into every high-class, low-class and lousy Spieler in London. We're still dam' cold. Whoever's got little Wilfred on a hook is keepin' it nice an' quiet.'

Charleston lit a cigarette.

'Look, Slim,' he said quietly. 'You know me. I like to keep out of trouble. I do a little gambling and I make a little money. I'd hate to get myself up against something I couldn't handle. See...'

Callaghan grinned.

'I see...' he said.

Charleston looked about him, dropped his voice.

'Raffano's the boyo,' he said. 'He's the black in the woodpile. He's as crooked as a couple of corkscrews an' he's getting away with it. He sells 'em everything. He's got a boat somewhere in the country, and I hear there's some sweet money dropped on it. He's got other interests, too. One or two nice little dumps outside London with one or two nice little girls with charming habits to get back the money off the boys who're lucky enough to win. He's half American and half Italian, and he's as tough as they come.'

Callaghan sent a cloud of smoke out of one nostril.

'Thank you, Gill,' he said. 'I'll do somethin' for you one day.'

He was silent for a moment. Then:

'Did you know I was interested in The Mug?' he asked.

Charleston laughed.

'Everybody knows it,' he said. 'All the clever boys, anyhow. But I reckon that they've all had a cut at the Riverton Mug, so they weren't letting you in on anything.'

He paused and looked at the glowing end of his cigarette.

'Look, Slim,' he said. 'You said you'd like to do something for me....'

Callaghan looked at him and smiled.

'I'll do anythin' for you, Gill,' he said softly. 'What is it?'

'It's Juanita,' said Charleston. 'I'm crazy about that girl. I've never been so nutty about a woman in my life. I'd give something to get Juanita.'

Callaghan grinned.

'Well, why not, Gill?' he asked pleasantly.

'Why not!' echoed Charleston. 'I like that. You've got your hooks into her so hard that she don't even look at anybody. I've tried everything I know. Flowers and invitations and everything else on the menu, and she's as cold as a snowball. She'd rather be kept waiting by you than have a good time from me....'

'Don't you believe it,' said Callaghan. 'Juanita is a clever girl. She's not really stuck on me... she only thinks she is. I think you're the sort of feller she'd really go for.' He thought for a moment. 'I'll have a little talk to her, Gill.' He lit another cigarette. 'And thanks for the tip-off about Raffano.'

'There's your boy,' said Charleston. 'I've heard it said that he's taken the Riverton Mug for thousands, and that he's not through with him yet. But you go easy, Slim... Raffano's poison... and he's got some tough boys working for him around the place. He takes no chances.'

Callaghan nodded.

'So he's a tough worker?' he said.

'Very tough,' said Charleston. 'Look at this fight tonight—the big fight after this cuddling match is over. You try and get a bet on the black... just try... you can't do it. Nobody'll look at it. They all had their money on three days ago with any mug who'd take it... before Raffano put the fight in the bag....'

Callaghan looked up. There was a gleam in his eye.

'So it's in the bag, Gill?' he said.

Charleston nodded.

'Lonney—the white boy—could murder that black if he wanted to,' he said. 'But he's been told to lie down in the third round, and he'll do it. He'll do it because he'll get a hundred that way and some more easy money in the future. All the wise boys here know that, too.'

Callaghan nodded again.

'An' I suppose The Mug will be backin' Lonney,' he said. 'I suppose that Raffano's given him a sweet price an' The Mug thinks he's on a good thing.'

He leaned against the passage wall.

'Where does this Raffano feller hang out, Gill?' he asked.

Charleston shrugged his shoulders.

'He keeps out of the way most of the time,' he said. 'He's not over here tonight. If things are goin' all right he just doesn't trouble. I believe he lives somewhere in the country.'

Callaghan ran his tongue over his lips.

'I see...' he said quietly. 'He just turns up when things are goin' wrong.' He straightened up. 'Thanks for the information.' He grinned. 'I won't forget about Juanita,' he said. 'I'll see if I can get her sort of interested in you. So long, Gill.'

He walked down the passage. Charleston went back into the bar. Half-way down the passage Callaghan stopped and stood for a minute or two thinking. Then he walked on and turned down the short flight of stone steps that led towards the dressing-rooms.

There was nobody in the short passage. Callaghan walked quietly to the door at the end. He opened it far enough for him to put his head round. On the other side of the room, sitting on the rubbing-down table, was Lonney, the fighter. His hands were already bandaged. He was looking at the floor. Callaghan went in, closed the door behind him.

'Hallo, Lonney,' he said. 'You don't look very happy.'

Lonney looked up.

'I'm all right, Mr Callaghan,' he said. 'How are you?'

'Pretty well,' said Callaghan.

He smiled, showing his white teeth. He reached back to his hip pocket and took out the thin gold cigarette-case that Cynthis Meraulton had given him two years before. He took out a cigarette, lit it. He did everything slowly. He was watching the fighter.

'I have got a £10 note in my hip pocket that says you're going to kill this black,' he said softly.

There was a pause. Then:

'I dunno, Mr Callaghan. I'm not feeling so good. Maybe I've overtrained a bit.'

Callaghan grinned.

'Like hell,' he said.

He blew a smoke ring out of his mouth and watched it. Then he walked over and stood beside Lonney. He dropped his voice.

'You listen to me, Lonney. Don't make any mistakes. I know all about this fight. It's been ready-eyed. It's in the bag. You're getting £100 to lie down in the third round. You're getting it just so's that cheap skunk Raffano can clean up over this fight. I know what I'm talking about. You can't get threepence on that black outside because everybody knows he's going to win.'

Callaghan sat down on the table beside Lonney.

'Lonney,' he said, 'I'm goin' to tell you something. Jake Raffano's finished. He's been doin' pretty well over here, but he's not goin' on doin' well. I'm fed-up with that feller.

'I'm goin' to make a suggestion to you, Lonney,' he went on, speaking in the same quiet, even voice. 'You get into the ring and kill that dam' black. You know you can do it. You've forgotten more about fightin' than that boy'll ever know. All right, then. You take the winnin' end of the purse, don't you? That's £50. And tomorrow my office sends you another £100. So you get £150 instead of the £100 that Raffano was goin' to pay you, and you win another fight. You put yourself one rung up the ladder to that championship that there is somewhere in the distance. Well, what are you goin' to do?'

Lonney looked at the door. His eyes were scared.

'It ain't so easy,' he said. 'If it was as easy as that it'd be all right. But if I cross him up and win this fight—and I can do it—what's Raffano goin' to do to me? Somebody's goin' to wait for me one night with a razor; and I like my face in one piece.'

Callaghan smiled.

'I wouldn't worry about that, Lonney,' he said. 'I told you I was lookin' after Raffano, didn't I? Well, now, you have it which way you like. You can go out and lie down in the third round and get that £100 he promised you, in which case you're goin' to have me on your neck for the rest of your life. Or you can go out there and kill that black, in which case I'm tellin' you that nobody's goin' to get at you with a razor, now or at any time; and that's a promise.'

Callaghan drew a great gulp of smoke into his lungs and began to cough. He coughed for quite a while. Then he got up.

'Well?' he asked.

The fighter raised his bandaged hands and folded them behind his head. His shoulders and chest muscles stood out.

'All right, Mr Callaghan,' he said. 'I'm winnin' this fight. I can kill that black any day I want to. I'll take the winnin' end of the purse and your £100. I'm standin' on you, but I don't want no trouble.'

Callaghan smiled.

'Good goin', Lonney,' he said. 'You're goin' to be all right.'

He walked over to the door.

'Put him down for ten in the first round,' he said. 'So long, Lonney.'

Callaghan got back to the ringside in time to see the end of the light-weights' performance. Seated in front of him, three men in dinner coats were smoking cigarettes and telling each other dirty stories. Callaghan tapped one of them on the shoulder.

'Is there any bettin' on the big fight?' he said.

They looked at each other. One of them, whose wilted collar seemed to be strangling him, looked at the other two with a grin before turning round.

'Who wants to bet on this fight?' he said. 'That black boy's going to do something to Lonney. Lonney ain't in the same class.'

'You don't say,' said Callaghan. 'Well, I don't think so. I think Lonney's as good as that dam' black any day.'

The three looked at each other again. One of them, from whose hatchet face a pair of slit Asiatic eyes glowed, said:

'Do you want to back Lonney, Callaghan?'

Callaghan thought for a moment.

'Well, why not?' he said eventually. 'If the odds are right.'

He noticed the almost imperceptible flicker of an eyelid between the man with the jowl and the hatchet-faced man.

'The odds would have to be good,' said Callaghan.

'The odds are all right,' said the hatchet-faced man. 'I'll lay three to one as many times as you like.'

Callaghan grinned.

'All right,' he said. 'I'll take £300 to £100 from you, and if I win I want payin' after the fight. Have you got the money?'

The hatchet-faced man looked at Callaghan for a moment. Then he pulled out a pocket-book. It was crammed with tens and twenties.

'What about yours?' he said.

Callaghan felt in his hip pocket. He produced a note-case. He took out ten £10 notes. He handed them to the hatchet-faced man. Then he sat back in his chair.

Five minutes after Lonney had knocked out the black in the second round, Callaghan stood in the passage that led towards the dressing-rooms. He lit a cigarette and leaned up against the wall and waited. He straightened up as the hatchet-faced man came down the stairs and turned into the passage-way. He stepped into the middle of the passage, blocking it.

'I'll take £400 from you,' he said.

He was smiling. The hatchet-faced man felt in his pocket. He produced the fat note-case, handed over the money. Callaghan still stood in the centre of the passage.

The hatchet-faced man began to smile too. His eyes almost disappeared and his mouth became a very thin line.

'You had a nice win, Callaghan,' he said. 'I hope the money's going to do you some good. And you might get out of the way. I want to have a few words with Lonney. Somebody's been teaching that boy to get clever.'

Callaghan did not move.

'Listen,' he said, 'you look to me like an intelligent feller. I'm goin' to give you a tip. You go home. You don't want to say anythin' to Lonney. You only think you do.'

The hatchet-faced man didn't say anything. Down the steps behind him came the other two—the man with the jowl and the short man. Callaghan raised his voice a trifle.

'You boys ought to have a word with Jake,' he said evenly. 'Somebody ought to tell Raffano that people are gettin' on to the way he's playin' it. I think he's losin' his grip.'

He smiled amiably.

'It was too bad for him Lonney decidin' to win that fight,' he said. 'It looks as if Raffano will have to pay the Riverton Mug some money for once. It'll be a nice experience for him.'

'You think you're good, don't you, Callaghan?' said the man with the jowl. 'All right, you've had a nice win. You wait till we get through with you.'

Callaghan grinned, his teeth showed like a dog's. With a swiftness that was amazing he brought up his right hand and, using it like a sledge-hammer, smashed it into the face of the man with the jowl. He went down like a log. Callaghan was still grinning.

'Now start something,' he said to the other two, 'and in about half an hour I'll have the whole dam' lot of you where I want you. Another thing, maybe this big air-balloon Raffano would like to have a little talk to me. I believe he uses the Parlour Club. I'm goin' there now.'

Nobody said anything. Joe Martinella came down the steps into the passage two at a time. There were beads of sweat on his forehead.

'Joe,' said Callaghan, 'I'm goin' over to the Parlour Club. Maybe I'm goin' to have a little talk with Jake Raffano. I want you to keep an eye on Lonney. Just see he gets home all right. I'm holdin' you responsible, see, Joe? And,' he continued evenly, 'you do it, Joe, otherwise I'll close this place for you tomorrow.'

Martinella ran a finger between his neck and his tight silk collar.

'Don't be silly, Slim,' he said. 'You've got this all wrong. Everything's fine. I'm glad Lonney won.'

Callaghan laughed. The big man with the jowl had got up. He was leaning against the wall. A thin stream of blood had trickled down his chin on to his white shirt front.

'Good night, boys!' said Callaghan.